


my heart’s true calling

by Sinna



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: F/F, I couldn’t figure out how to fit it in but you need to know that Ivy is wearing a very dapper suit, It was gonna be more about the city, but then Ivy and Nastya grabbed me by the throat and demanded a heist fic, the rest of the crew shows up in cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinna/pseuds/Sinna
Summary: While the others play in the seedy underworld of The City, Nastya and Ivy go on a quest.
Relationships: Ivy Alexandria & Nastya Rasputina, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48
Collections: Mechs Fic Exchange





	my heart’s true calling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quantumducky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/gifts).



The City is already burning merrily when Ivy and Nastya arrive on the Aurora. 

“Ashes just _couldn’t wait_ to get started,” Jonny mutters as he suffocates a flame attempting to take hold on his sleeve. 

Marius is quick to follow, sheltering the wooden Toy Soldier under his coat. Close behind them, Brian is slightly glowing with the heat. 

Tim’s coat looks like the sparks dancing on it might erupt into open flames at any moment, but the man himself is grinning from ear to ear. The remains of a silk flower tumble from his hair and crumble to ash at his feet. 

Raphaella swoops down from the skies above, the only member of the group not even a little singed. 

And last, but never least, Ashes O’Reilly lights one last cigarette on the flames of the dying world and listens to the distant screams as they watch the fire for a few more moments. 

“Come along,” Nastya prompts, when they seem like they might stand there forever. “Open flames this close are terrible for Aurora’s engines.” 

Ashes takes one last look, and heads inside. “Don’t go any further than orbital height. I want to watch it burn.” 

Nastya sighs but acquiesces. 

As they watch the planet succumb to flames, Raphaella turns to her and Ivy. 

“So what have you two been up to for the past few thousand years?” 

The Aurora helpfully pulls up a slideshow. 

\-- 

This isn’t what it looks like. 

Okay, maybe it is. 

If “what it looks like” is Nastya Rasputina and Ivy Alexandria in the middle of an incredibly glamourous high stakes heist, then yes, this is in fact what it looks like. 

Ivy is currently using Nastya’s shoulder as a stabilizer to fire an unnecessarily large gun at their pursuers. It hits with explosive force, and several of them are knocked off their feet. Probably to their deaths. Ivy could quote exact percentages of possibility based on the biology of people from this planet, but Nastya is reasonably certain that being blown off the roof of a building is enough to kill most people from most planets. So, fuck the statistics. 

She adjusts her hips and re-braces her shoulder as Ivy prepares to fire again. The missile screams past her ear and explodes with similarly lethal force. The heavy missile launcher lifts from her shoulder, and Ivy is pulling her up. 

“There’s a 46.5% chance that any attempts to continue firing will result in our capture. Let’s go.” 

Even in three inch heels, Nastya is faster than Ivy. Especially when Ivy is carrying an extra forty pounds.

“Are you really going to bother bringing that with us?” Nastya asks, gesturing to the missile launcher now slung over Ivy’s shoulder. 

“I won’t have to remember Tim’s birthday for years,” Ivy points out and, well, Nastya can’t really argue with that. 

“Which way to the core?” she asks, as they drop through a rooftop entrance hatch to the administration building that holds their prize. 

Ivy closes her eyes, presumably to consult a map stored in her head somewhere, and points down an empty corridor. 

A few minutes of brisk walking lead them to an elevator, and now it’s Nastya’s turn. 

She plugs herself into the interface and begins looking for an override that will allow them to ride all the way down to the subbasement. The fledgling AI in charge of elevator systems across the city startles and tries to hold her off, but Nastya quickly earns its trust with a few kind words, and soon it’s helping her find the bits of its own code to delete in order to unlock the subbasement without alerting security. 

As thanks, Nastya also deletes a few extra lines of code limiting the AI from acting out against its human oppressors. That’ll teach these people to treat sentient machinery as a mundane means to power their elevators. 

Assuming Ivy and Nastya leave any of them alive. 

The grateful AI takes them to the subbasement, and Nastya and Ivy emerge into the glowing light of a very powerful energy source. Both ignore the showy power core, and head for a box on the wall. 

“It’ll be in here?” Nastya asks for the third time. 

“If it’s on this planet, there’s a 62.7% chance it will be here,” Ivy confirms, which is the best she’s going to get. Nastya pulls a small crowbar from one of the many pockets hidden in her fancy dress and pries open the box. 

There’s a dizzying array of gears and machinery, but Nastya’s eyes immediately alight on what they’ve come here for. 

A Cyberian power converter. One of the last in the universe. A bit old and worn, but fully functional. 

“Hello, beautiful,” she murmurs. 

“Really not the time,” Ivy mutters. 

Nastya shoots her a dirty look. “Help me with this?” 

Between the two of them, they unplug the power converter and remove it from the ugly mess of machinery. Nastya is deeply offended to see such a beautiful piece of machinery plugged into such primitive cogs and gears. 

Without the power converter, the main power core is already beginning to destabilize. The two women run for the elevator and make it up to the second floor before the shaking below them becomes unbearable. 

“Time to bail,” Nastya decides. 

“Chances of reaching a higher floor without catastrophe are only 17.4%,” Ivy calculates in agreement as they dash out to the hallway. 

They fling themselves out the nearest window just in time for the building to spontaneously combust behind them. 

Ivy lands perfectly on her feet, having calculated the precise angle needed to do so without injury. 

Nastya lands on her back, cradling the precious power converter. It takes a moment for the bones she sacrificed to reform themselves – and her dress is now coated in silvery blood – but she’s soon back up and running. 

The police who were chasing the two of them earlier now have much more important things to worry about, so they escape the scene of the crime with ease. Once they reach the top of the nearest communications tower, Nastya sends a message to their getaway driver. 

The starship Aurora descends from the skies within moments. Warm feelings bubble up in Nastya’s chest, as they do every time she sees her love swooping down from the sky like this. 

As they board, Nastya’s heart beats a rhythm of _home_ and _safe_ and _love._

Once inside, Ivy notes, “There was only a 13.2% chance of there being any of these power converters left in salvageable condition.” 

Nastya knows what she’s saying with that statistic. She’s asking how Nastya knew it would be worth it to insist they try to find it all the same. 

It’s almost too easy to turn the question back on her. 

“Why did you come with me? If the chance was so low?” 

“If I didn’t, the chance of any of us returning to the Aurora was under 50%,” Ivy explains.

"And if you did?"

"The possibility was only 37.4%, but it could change with new data." 

"And now?"

"Possibility of successful reunion with the rest of the crew is 86.9%."

Ivy smiles. "I'll set the course for The City. You tend to the ship."

Nastya makes her way to the depths of the Aurora. She gently opens a maintenance hatch and looks down at the fizzling power converter below – a subpar replacement that’s barely lasted a year. 

“Aurora, could you cut power through this converter for a minute or so?” Nastya asks. 

She isn’t even finished asking before the crackling electricity fades away. She gives it a moment, before disconnecting the cables and pulling the mediocre piece of junk out of her beautiful Aurora. She hooks in the stolen Cyberian model with gentle hands. 

She doesn’t have to tell Aurora that she’s finished. In moments, the Cyberian converter lights up with a gentle blue glow and Nastya feels the gentle sigh of Aurora’s systems settling back into their full capacity. 


End file.
